Jean-Pierre found comfort in the dark of the night, and it was his cleverness that led him to Lady Dust. He peered into her shop curiously, hood heavy and obscuring his eyes, he clears his throat, and manages a small familiar smile, "Lady Dust?"
She had just finished closing up shop and was setting up her lantern for the night - swinging gently in the brush of a cold, damp winter breeze, making the tiny flame she tried to bring to life shudder. Only when it flared strong did she let it go and close the latch. Her store was closed, but a healer’s work was never done, and it wouldn’t do for a wounded person to have to stumble to her door in the dark.
Focused on her task she jumped at the nearby voice, giving a sharp inhale and glancing around herself before seeing the form nearby. Recognition, and the voice became familiar, the smile returned. She moved away from the door to great him, stepping down.
“Jean-Pierre! I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone out this late. Please, come in from the co - OH!“
A cry left her as she slipped down the second icy step, toppling gracelessly towards the other Breton, and the blanket of snow on the ground.